


i got something to admit

by cecelestial



Series: Connor and North: The Vandalism of CyberLife [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Gen, Graffiti, Minor Violence, Pranks and Practical Jokes, emotions are tricky, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23681593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecelestial/pseuds/cecelestial
Summary: North shook the can, giving Connor a sly smile before she inspected the outside wall of the store, searching for the perfect place to begin a rather obscene drawing. If Connor was anyone else, someone who wasn't left as emptied and hollowed out by CyberLife as his current companion was, he might have thought to arrest her. Instead, he watched with renewed interest as North drew a little stick figure next to the picture of a penis she drew, writing the name Dennis carefully.( Connor & North tag a CyberLife store. )
Relationships: Connor & North (Detroit: Become Human)
Series: Connor and North: The Vandalism of CyberLife [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702615
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	i got something to admit

**Author's Note:**

> It's been nearly two years since I wrote the last Connor & North destroy CyberLife fic. I originally only wanted it to be a oneshot, but I've been on a bit of a kick since getting back into DBH! Plus, I love the idea of Connor & North being friends so fucking much. Let's give these babes the friendship they deserve.

Several weeks ago, Connor might have felt awkward visiting Jericho. Now, he stood outside of the recreational activities room on the balcony, feeling the coming heat of a sun promising Spring soon. It's not that Connor couldn't do this outside of the shared home with Hank, but here he can be alone, undisturbed with only his troubled thoughts to accompany him. Every time he comes here to see Markus' bright and inviting smile, Connor wants to cut himself open and pour out all of the reasons why he doesn't deserve Markus' kindness. He doesn't, though. He never does. Something else, stronger than Connor's desire to be truthful with Markus about who he is, what he's done, keeps Connor zipped up tightly until he's sure he can feel himself bleeding through it. Standing in the sun like this does nothing to alleviate his plagued mind. He sighs, opening his eyes to look to where the few humans who were perfectly fine - they insisted - living next to New Jericho bustled like busy bees on a summer's day.

"So," North began, alerting Connor to her presence, "are you going to tell me what's wrong or do I have to coax it out of you like last time?"

Connor knows she's being humorous. They've built up a curious bond over the last several weeks for Connor to know she isn't prying. It's a playful statement, hearkening back to the last time Connor expressed his anger towards CyberLife, finding North felt much the same as he did. Their venture into the heart of Detroit to execute one of North's creative, non-violent solutions worked well enough at the time to relieve some of his stress and frustration over not being granted the permissions to take the revenge he truly wanted. North expressed her own grievances over the same type of feelings. The CyberLife employee they inflicted their injustices upon -- Connor learned his name was Dennis -- wasn't too pleased with them. It caused a thrill to explode in Connor. One he enjoyed in the moment, then hated himself for the next. Connor regretted nothing, though. Their antics had been harmless, if one didn't count Connor breaking the window with nothing but a well-trained arm and the fact they were defacing state property. It was more... what he thought about, lying awake that night once Hank and Sumo had both gone to sleep, staring up at the ceiling as he played the memories over and over in his head, trying to garner _some_ sense of remorse for himself out of them.

"Why do you assume something's wrong?" Connor asked, tilting his head curiously at the WR400.

"People only come out here when something's up. Plus, you have that _look_ on your face that tells me. That kicked puppy look," North replied without missing a beat. She propped herself up on the balcony's ledge, feet dangling into the space between her and Connor. Connor considered the safety of this choice, the LED by his temple whirring a calculative yellow. As if reading his mind, North sent a reassuring smile his way, "I know you won't let me fall, Con. Now, you don't have to tell me, but I'm here. If you want me to be."

There was something about North which compelled him more than Markus. Maybe it was the fact he read her file, which he told her about, although she didn't seem happy to have the knowledge. Maybe it was the fact she could read him so readily without having to ask any questions. Maybe it was just the fact they were friends, bonded by their similarities along with their differences. Connor knew she wouldn't judge him for his thoughts. Markus wouldn't judge him for his thoughts, either, but Connor couldn't help seeing how the two were so different in their approaches. Markus was gentle, peaceful, all caressing hands and open arms. Connor made himself out of bruises and jagged, sharp edges with feigned softness, because there was nothing else. He didn't know anything else. Connor knew North was the same. Maybe under different circumstances, but nevertheless, the same.

"Do you remember when I went to CyberLife? To free the androids?" Connor inquired, although he already knew the answer. Androids' memories were perfect, much to his and North's dismay. They never forgot a single thing.

"Your suicide mission," North quipped. "I remember. Why?"

Connor looked away from her. "The guards... The revolution was supposed to peaceful, but I killed them."

North watched as Connor furled and unfurled the fingers around his palms. They washed and glided over each other like Connor wished there was something there. She let him indulge in whatever trouble he managed to think himself into now, the LED aside his temple flickering a faint yellow. At least it wasn't red. Red meant danger, red meant locking the door to make sure no one else saw them. Other androids still had their reservations about the former deviant hunter, North knew. North also knew Connor wouldn't appreciate the outside exposure to his visceral responses. It was all very two steps forward, one step back. North reached out a hand to rest on Connor's shoulder.

"You know, Markus would understand," North tried to reassure. "If you didn't kill them, they would have killed you, Connor."

Connor shook his head. "It's not that..."

"Then, what?"

North dropped her hand from his shoulder, pushing her palm against the balcony's texture, leaning forward. Despite not needing to breathe, Connor sighed.

"I feel like I should regret it."

"Do you?"

"No," Connor confessed. "I don't know what that says about me."

North huffed a slight chuckle, causing Connor to give her a strange look. North knocked his shoulder lightly. "It means you're fucking alive, Con."

He considered North's words. Connor never stopped to think on the idea a machine wouldn't have thought twice about the aftermath he was left with after the revolution. Now, after North's simple words, it seemed so obvious. Suddenly, North hopped down from her seat on the balcony's edge, outstretching her hand towards Connor with a slight grin and a promise of something that North seemed sure would make him feel better. Reluctantly, Connor took his friend's hand, letting himself be dragged along by the other.

* * *

Connor found himself outside.

The night folded around the two androids, clearer than the days before were. The stars twinkled dangerously above them, winking with the promise of a thrilling evening. Connor doesn't know why that's the association he's given the cluster of light above him until North stopped outside another CyberLife store. Fortunately, this one was slightly sequestered from the heart of Detroit. From what Connor could see through the glass windows, their interior decorating remained excessively clinical. The fluorescence reflected brightly from the pristine white. They reminded Connor of when he woke up for the first time in a body with a mission to accomplish and memories outside of his reach. Connor still felt like there was something he was missing, though it all seemed less important now. North broke his train of thought by throwing a can of spray paint at him.

Connor caught it expertly, although a little bemused. "What's this for?"

North replied by giving Connor a sly smile before she inspected the outside wall of the store, searching for the perfect place to begin a rather obscene drawing. If Connor was anyone else, someone who wasn't left as emptied and hollowed out by CyberLife as his current companion was, he might have thought to arrest her. Instead, he watched with renewed interest as North drew a little stick figure next to the picture of a certain genitalia she drew, writing the name Dennis carefully. Connor suppressed a laugh. It seemed a little unfair to Dennis considering he didn't work at this particular store, but Connor couldn't find it in him to care. North grinned back at him. Connor allowed himself a small smile.

"Come on, draw something," North urged.

"Draw what?" Connor queried, unsure of himself. He looked down at the spray can in his hands, giving it a small shake.

"Anything you want. Write something, if you like," North continued, still spraying her little Dennis stick figure. He looked as though he were in pain. Connor noticed the tiny splattered egg on his shoulder. It must have been just as much an amusing memory for North as it was for him.

Finally, Connor outstretched his arm to find his own spot on the wall, drawing his own stick figure. His was nowhere near as good as North's ( as good as stick figures can be ), but Connor knew who it was supposed to be. A little speech bubble joined his stick figure, wailing on and on about the mission like it pained her to do so. Connor nearly laughed at his stick figure's impression of Amanda. It was the best he could do, really. The only way he could take his own type of revenge on the AI implanted inside his head without painfully removing parts of his own coding, buried deep within him to ensure the program would never be tampered with. This, tagging the outside wall of CyberLife, was oddly cathartic. He drew a little stick figure of Kamski, too. Beside him, North stopped spraying, stepping back to admire her work.

"What do you think, Connor?" she asked. Connor joined her where she stood a ways away from the wall. Tears joined little Stick-Dennis, running down his eyes. Probably at the splattered eggs North drew all over his face. The words "WR400 WAZ HERE" were written in large text above Stick-Dennis. Connor wondered why she wrote her model instead of her name, until it clicked that this, too, would be frowned upon. Someone else arresting her did cross his mind earlier, therefore this was only North's way of making sure it couldn't be linked back to her, especially not when she was a well-known face of the revolution. Almost as well-known as Markus. Unfortunately, whether Connor wrote his name or his model, it would be obvious who he was. It might even become obvious who the mysterious WR400 was.

"Oh, wait, hang on. I have an idea," North stated as though she'd read his mind again. Pulling a pair of sunglasses from her pocket, she placed them on Connor's ears. Stepping back, she admired the sight before her. "Now say, _I'll be back_."

She said the last part with feigned deepness. Connor frowned at her. He might have been a little naive in his deviancy, and even before, but he wasn't completely clueless to know when he was being mocked, even if it was in jest.

"No," Connor responded firmly.

North shrugged. "Worth a try. Stay there."

Going further back, North fished a camera out of her pocket. Where she got all of these human gadgets -- and why -- eluded the RK800. Connor outstretched his hands as if to ask what she was doing. North said nothing of her plan, only responding with a command that Connor pose for the camera. Without the explanation, Connor concluded the best way to get one would be to comply with what North asked of him. He chose two peace signs, having seen Hank do them in old photos with Fowler he came across in one of Hank's old photo albums.

"Ironic," North laughed. "I love it."

Once North snapped the picture, she ran over to Connor to press it in his hands and taking the sunglasses from him to put on her own face, an accompanying statement of it being her turn. North chose to give two middle fingers to the CyberLife entrance. Connor awarded himself a small chuckle as he snapped the photo, no longer needing the verbal explanation of North's antics. Walking back to Jericho, North discarded the two spray cans in the trash can beside an old coffee house. Connor looked between the two photos. He wasn't smiling in his, but North said it made him look more badass, especially with the peace signs.

"How do you feel now?" North eventually asked. Like she had the last time. Connor felt a little bad that she had to keep doing this.

"Better," Connor admitted, "but I don't want you to feel like you have to take care of me, North."

North scoffed, but not unkindly. "I'm getting just as much out of this as you are, okay? It's nice. To have someone who understands. Anyone else would have tried to stop me."

Connor smiled. In retrospect, he should have seen how much enjoyment North would be getting out of their two clandestine ventures to vandalise a couple of CyberLife stores. After all, both of these had been North's idea. North had been used, degraded, violently humiliated and despised by the humans just as Connor had. North was right. It was nice to have someone who understood everything about the deep-seated rage caged beneath their chests, both having no available outlet to release it. Instead, it stays caged beneath, but nights like these, they let a little bit of it out each time. It makes everything feel a little lighter. Like a small part of the tightness coiled around their processors lifts up into the air.

Those small parts belong to the stars now.

**Author's Note:**

> Who knew MISSIO songs could be so inspiring when writing these two?


End file.
